


(I don't know just what i'm asking it for) Hold me now

by Pixilated



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Top Derek, WIP, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-30 21:06:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13960017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixilated/pseuds/Pixilated
Summary: The pack is on the verge of moving home after the years away at college. Everyone is looking forward to going home. Naturally, this is when Derek and Stiles fuck things up by falling into bed together.Or...5 times Derek and Stiles hook up. Plus that one time Erica stuck her nose in and beat some sense into the idiots.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no idea where this came from. it woke me up at four a.m. and wouldn't go away until I wrote over 3k on my phone notes app. I've got most of it written, but will be adding a section at a time while I get the last bit done. due to the way I wrote most of it, there's probably a whole bunch of mistakes so sorry about that! not sure how long this is going to be, but the first section is by far the longest at the moment. hoping the last section will match it. 
> 
> I do not own any of the characters from the Teen Wolf TV show. 
> 
> If there's anything you spot you think I should know about, feel free to message me or point it out in the comments.

1\.   
The first time it happens they're both drunk. 

Erica got some werewolf beer from a few shady friends at a werewolf biker bar she liked to drag them to and watch while whoever she had persuaded into accompanying her cowered in the corner. 

Derek is such a lightweight, because it’s the first time he drank anything that affected him, that it only takes two before he's stumbling and falling over himself. Stiles isn't much better as he was only just coming off a week long studying bender, ending in the exam the party was to celebrate having got through. So when he helped Derek through to his bedroom and the bed looked so damn inviting, he couldn't exactly be blamed for collapsing beside the man. Stiles moaned and snuggled into the soft, fluffy covers. "So comfortable," he mumbled. Derek made a sound beside him. Then said, "Stay. Sleep." so Stiles stayed, and Stiles slept. 

It wasn't until he was halfway through getting dressed the next morning, pulling up his jeans and looking around for his shirt that he realised he didn't remember actually getting undressed. 

He looked down at himself, confused and head aching with the after effects of the few beers he'd had. "what the fuck?" he muttered. In the bed, Derek mumbled something, turning over, wrapping his arms around and burying his face in the pillow Stiles had woken up drooling on. Stiles looked back down at himself. 

Wait, were those...fingerprints on his hips? 

He twisted to try and get a better look, nearly falling over with his jeans not pulled up yet. Penguin waddling to the bathroom, he realised something else. His head wasn’t the only thing aching. His ass was complaining in the way it only did after a very thorough round of fucking. 

He squinted against the bright lights in the bathroom and froze when he got a good look at himself in the mirror. His face and neck were pink with the unmistakable marks of beard burn. And speaking of his neck, three hickies decorated his usually pale skin. One on his left collar bone, one just below his left ear, and the biggest at the junction of neck and shoulder on the right side, far back enough that he wouldn't have seen it unless he was really looking. And he was looking. He twisted and turned to see himself in the mirror. His back bore scratch marks and yes, those were definitely fingerprints on his hips because there were more to match them on his ass and thighs. And now he thought about it, his head was aching more than just a few beers would account for. 

His hair hurt in the way that it does when he's had an overly enthusiastic partner pulling on it a little too much. He gets a sudden flash of remembered sparks of pain skittering over his head in the best way while someone pounded into him from behind. Not someone. Derek. 

Stiles’ gaze is horrified, and he looks away from the mirror, back at the bedroom door. How the fuck could he have let that happen? What, did he jump the man in his sleep and Derek was too drunk on wolfsbane beer to put up any protest? But Stiles looks like he's been mauled, so that can't be what happened. Did Derek even know it was him? Was Stiles just a willing, apparently very willing, body for his horny werewolf self? Very, very willing. 

Stiles felt hot with shame as more memories started to filter back. This time he remembers being on his back, legs splayed on either side of Derek's hips while Derek knelt with Stiles' ass in his lap, thrusting up into him. Stiles' back had been bowed, shoulders the only part touching the bed, fingers gripping the headboard while he used what little leverage he had to lean into Derek's thrusts, cries and groans escaping him every time Derek filled him. 

Fuck. Stiles whimpered. His knees were weak and his dick filling at the memory. He never thought he would have that - what had happened between them. He had been perfectly happy thinking he had managed to get over the epic crush that had developed without his permission after the surly wolf had skulked and bitched his way into his and Scott's lives when they were 15. Oblivious at first to his own changing feelings, Stiles had continued to lay siege to Lydia's very taken heart. Then the morning after Derek had laid full length on the floor under Stiles, neither of them able to move due to dickhead Jackson's kanima venom, he had been unable to avoid images of Derek's body against his slipping into his head while he enjoyed a little personal Stiles time. 

Images and impressions of Derek had slowly taken over his spank-bank until he had been unable to deny the crush's existence any longer. He had pined for four years. Then when he went back for his second year of Uni, he had been determined to move on. 

And move on he had, first with Sarah, a girl from his Tuesday night study group, then with...Stiles thinks his name was Adam, but nights in Beau's bar always got a little blurry. Then a host of others. Stiles got to be an expert at creeping out unheard in the morning and never going back for a repeat performance. 

That had been two years ago and now he had to creep out of Derek's room because if Derek woke up and found him there, he might not live to get his final exam results.   
Jeans buttoned, Stiles crept back through the bedroom, snagging Derek's discarded shirt on the way as his own was nowhere to be seen. Shoes and one sock in hand, he closed the door behind him as gently as he could. Avoiding every creaky floorboard in the ridiculously huge apartment was easy enough, but he didn't think he took another breath until he closed his own bedroom door and leaned against it. 

There hadn't been a sound when he passed the other bedrooms and he prayed none of the wolves had heard him. Derek had not wanted the pack to separate for Uni, so they had all applied to colleges near each other and he had bought a place bang in the middle. The four already large apartments had been easy enough to convert into one. Adjusting to living in such close quarters with each other had been a little more taxing, but once he and Lydia poured over some texts and put sound and scent dampeners on the place, it had gotten easier. 

It was a whole lot nicer having Stiles time when he knew everyone in the place didn't immediately know what he was doing. 

And far less awkward when Erica and Boyd fell into bed time after time until she gave up pretending that she wasn't as invested as he was. 

Or when Kira came back from her sojourns in the desert and she and Scott didn't emerge for three days while he reassured her how much he missed her. 

Or when Jackson and Lydia had extremely loud makeup sex after extremely loud fights. Or when that finally ended, and they ended up dating the twins. 

Or when she started disappearing back to Beacon Hills on weekends to see Jordan Parrish, while Ethan moved into Jackson's room and Aidan moved into a spare.

Sound and scent still moved around the apartment, but the wolves among them assured the humans that they were not nearly as strong and they had to be actively listening or scenting to pick up on things that happened in bedrooms. Which they didn't do. Ew. Oh, except Erica. She was as much of a perv as ever and took great delight in turning everyone else red with what she claimed to overhear. 

Stiles stripped off and grabbed a few things. Winding a towel around his waist, he left his room. A door creaked a little somewhere, so he hurried into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it. There were several in the place, plus Derek's master bath, so he wasn't worried he would keep anyone else from it but didn't want to get caught looking like he did. 

He didn't hurry his shower. He soaped up and scrubbed several times with a scent reducing body wash until he thought he was as scent free as he was going to get. He poked at a few of the bruises and jerked off guiltily at the flashes of the previous night that came back to him. Then lathered up with the body wash again. 

No one looked at him twice when he wandered through and put a couple of pop-tarts in the toaster so he must have done a pretty good job with the scrubbing. Erica made a face at his choice of food when he leaned back against the counter and bit into the sweet, crispy goodness. "Breakfast of champions."

She made another face and continued polishing off the cooked breakfast Boyd had made her. Next to her, Boyd didn't say anything, or bat an eyelid, but Stiles could feel the judgement. "You're going to have to stop eating that crap sometime, Stiles," Erica said around a mouthful of bacon. Tom nodded in agreement, then turned green and pushed his bowl of cereal away. He slunk out of the room.

"Not yet." He paused mid-bite when Derek shuffled in, eyes following the man as he went to the fridge, opened it, looked at the contents, and closed it again. 

Stiles forced himself to look away and finish chewing the suddenly sickly sweet last mouthful. Erica shot him a weird look which he pretended not to see. Derek leaned his forehead again the fridge and moaned. The sound went straight to Stiles dick. 

"Okay, I'm out of here." He pushed off from the counter and hurried back to his room.

"What? Where are you going?" Erica shouted after him, the only one apart from him capable of verbal communication this early after a night on wolfsbane beer. Desi was only just fourteen and hadn’t been drinking, but they didn’t usually see her in the mornings anyway unless one of them was doing her sister Taryn a favour on a school day and driving her in.

"Off to see my dad. I'll be back in a few days," Stiles called back, closing himself in his room again. 

Fuck. Shit. He didn’t think he could cope with seeing Derek immediately after what had happened the night before. Not without throwing himself at the man, anyway.

He shoved a few things in a bag and escaped the apartment before anyone else could stop him. He lectured himself the whole drive home on not being clingy or weird the next time he saw Derek.


	2. Chapter 2

2.  
The second time it happened, both of them were sober. 

He'd been back at the apartment for a month after the flying visit to his dad. Everyone was finished with finals now and busy with the mammoth job of packing up the apartment for their move home. Between them there was a hell of a lot to move. Even without the beds and most of the furniture—Derek had refused point blank to take most of the larger items, saying moving nearly twenty beds most of a days’ drive was ridiculous. He had already furnished the rebuilt and enlarged Hale house and several smaller pack houses in the forest around it, anyway so what was the point? Only personal items, books, and stuff was to go with them. Besides, they were taking enough with them as it was.

Lydia couldn't wait to get back and finally move into the smaller house on pack land that Jordan was already living in so she chivvied Scott and Kira along until they were done and ready to go. The three of them left with their bags in the trunk of Lydia's car and stacks of boxes ready in their respective rooms for one of the moving vans. 

Everyone who was left took another few days to pack up the rest. Despite his love for pop-tarts, Stiles did enjoy cooking. He refused to part with most of the kitchenware he had accumulated over the three years there. He rarely ventured into the smaller kitchen at the far side of the apartment, but he definitely had a bad case of mine where the main kitchen was concerned. Unless they had been asked to help with a particularly large meal when everyone was due for a pack night, he tended to growl at anyone who tried to interfere while he was cooking. Of course, the wolves all found his growling hilarious, but less so when he refused to cook for them until they quit trying. 

Anyone using the kitchen while he wasn’t around had to make sure they cleaned all equipment and returned them to the same place or there was hell to pay. Funnily enough, Boyd was the only one he actually trusted to help him out without Stiles feeling the need to fuss and hover over him. Growing up with a bunch of younger siblings meant Boyd had helped his mother prepare a lot of meals and the man knew how to take direction. Probably why he and Erica got along so well as she loved giving them.

Ew. Stiles really shouldn't have let his mind wander down that path. 

He shook his head and continued wrapping kitchen items in bubble wrap, or newspaper depending on what they were, and putting them in boxes. 

Most of the pack had gone out for a last night on the town. Stiles hadn't felt up to it, so had volunteered to stay home and babysit Desi, who was “far too grown up to need a sitter, thank you.” Stiles had said he wanted to finish the kitchen anyway and she'd grumbled and stomped off to her room without much more argument. 

Derek returned an hour later and went into the living room without saying a word to Stiles. He was in there for an hour and a half, TV occasionally blaring the sound of audience laughter, while Stiles continued to pack. Last minute items for that many people still took some time to round up. 

Derek padded through silently and Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin when the tap turned on behind him. "Jesus!" he yelled, spinning around. 

Derek lunged for him, dropping the glass into the sink, as Stiles flailed and went over backwards. Derek caught Stiles before he fell and jerked him forward and they paused, bodies pressed firmly together, staring at each other like something out of one of Lydia's favourite movies. Later, he could only feel grateful that Desi hadn’t emerged to investigate the noise the glass made when it broke in the sink.

Broken glass forgotten, the next hour was heat and sweat and skin. Stiles didn't know which one of them made the push to Derek's room, but every second of the hour that followed was burned bright into his brain. 

Straddling Derek and kissing him hungrily when they fell onto the bed.

Derek's fingers digging into his shoulder blades while trying to pull him closer. 

Licking his way down Derek's unfairly chiselled abs and the musky smell of the man when he closed his mouth around Derek’s cock. 

Derek shuddering against him when Stiles sank down on his length. 

The unexpectedly soft kiss Derek gave him while he waited for Stiles's body to adjust. 

The sweat slicking their bodies together when Stiles came, pulling Derek into his own release, and fell across his chest. 

Listening to Derek's heartbeat in the moments after, before things grew awkward. 

Rolling to one side and trying to think of what to say, before Derek shot up and into the bathroom. 

The wet washcloth Derek tossed to him. 

The feel of Derek's cum dribbling out of his ass before he hurriedly cleaned himself up. 

Grabbing his clothes and escaping back to his room while Derek hid in the bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts three and four are both pretty short, so I'm giving you both bits today! x

3.  
So this was a thing they did now.

They fucked, one of them ran away, and then they both pretended it hadn't happened the next time they looked at each other.

Of course, that was a little harder when they were sharing driving the last moving van back to Beacon Hills and the motel only had one free room. Waking up as Derek’s little spoon and remembering nothing after their fifth round of sweaty sex, Stiles ~~staggered~~ ran to the diner next door to get breakfast for them both.

Derek was showered and dressed when he got back.

So this was a thing they did. But after being in love with Derek for so long, Stiles was going to take whatever he could get, for as long as he could get it.


	4. Chapter 4

4\.   
Erica grinned at him lecherously when they arrived, and the pack piled out of the house to help unload. She sniffed in Stiles’ direction pointedly and her grin got wider the redder he went. 

After their latest night together, Derek and Stiles had slept in and been late setting off, so the other vans were already standing empty, waiting to be returned en masse to the depot. Stiles was desperate for a shower. The tepid, low pressure one at the motel hadn’t done much to wash the road or the sex from his body. Erica was the only one showing any sign of being aware of what they had done, though. 

The vans had been packed with whatever random boxes fitted the best, rather than with all of one person's things, then all another's so boxes with names or rooms scrawled on the side were carried in and on up to whatever room by whoever the box was handed to. 

Erica gave him another grin when he handed her a box from the bed of the truck, but she vanished into the house before he dared ask what she was up to. 

Late the next evening, Stiles was just digging through boxes trying to find a particular tee-shirt, realising a good portion of his clothing seemed to be missing, when someone knocked on his door. 

"Derek? What are you..?" Stiles registered the box with his own name written across the side in heavy black lettering. "Oh, thanks, man." 

The next morning, after Derek crawled out of Stiles’ bed at some point during the night, Stiles only had to wonder briefly how his box had wound up in Derek's room before he remembered Erica's wicked grin. 

He tried so hard to pretend everything was normal that day, that he completely missed noticing everyone was avoiding coming too close or looking at him. 

"You stink, Stilinski," Jackson said, when he came back in a pissy mood after lunch with his parents. 

"What?" 

"You stink. Of Derek. Also, try and keep it down when you go at it." 

Stiles stared around in horror, feeling his face heat. Yup, everyone else was avoiding looking at him. Jesus, he hadn't cast the sound or scent dampening spells yet. He had totally forgotten about that when he and Derek had ended up in bed yet again. He grumbled something back at Jackson and shot out of the house to go see his father at the station. 

Stiles wasn't due to start work there for another couple of weeks, but it never hurt to get a jump on things.


	5. Chapter 5

5\.   
Exhausted after a solid week of casting the dampening spells, reinforcing wards he had set at intervals as the house was rebuilt, and laying new ones, Stiles wasn't surprised when he fell asleep on a sofa during movie night. He woke up as Derek lowered him onto his bed. 

Sleepy and unable to hold himself back, Stiles reached for Derek's arm. "Stay." 

"You sure?" Derek sounded uncertain, but Stiles was too tired to care about why.

"Mmm hummm," he murmured. 

Stiles didn't wake fully but didn't drift off either as Derek stripped them both down to their underwear and climbed in beside him. Stiles pulled the tentative hand Derek laid on his hip around his chest, snuggled backwards into Derek’s heat, and sighed contentedly, asleep again before Derek relaxed behind him. 

Waking at some point in the night to Derek hard against his ass and the man’s lips against his neck, Stiles moaned and tilted his head, pressing back. Derek ground against his ass, mouthing slowly at the skin below Stiles' ear until Stiles was ready to beg. 

Derek pushed Stiles' boxers down, then his own while Stiles fumbled for the lube. 

It was sleepy and lazy and perfect, with Derek rocking into him gently, gripping his hip and batting Stiles' hand away from his leaking cock as he slowly drove him out of his mind. Stiles panted and writhed while Derek moved inside him, orgasm building so slowly he almost didn't realise it was cresting until it crashed over him in long, powerful waves. 

Derek thrust a few more times before growing harder inside him and freezing against Stiles. He trembled, fingers tightening hard enough to re-bruise Stiles’ hip. Derek’s mouth was open and warm against the back of Stiles’ neck. Stiles distantly felt the wet heat inside him as Derek came. He fell asleep again before Derek left his body. 

Somehow, Stiles had thought this time would be different, but Derek was gone the next time he woke up.


End file.
